


What He Became

by MindscapeWish



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Transcendence (Gravity Falls), Body Horror, Demonic Puberty, Gen, lots of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:06:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindscapeWish/pseuds/MindscapeWish
Summary: When Dipper woke up after the Transcendence, he assumed the worst of his problems was behind him. He was wrong.OR, the months following the Transcendence in which Dipper goes through 'demonic puberty.'
Relationships: Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	What He Became

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags! If you are triggered or squicked by blood or teeth stuff, this unfortunately isn't the fic for you.

_ August. _

When Dipper woke up shortly after Weirdmageddon had ended and the Transcendence started, he was... Relatively normal. Y’know, invisible to everyone except his sister, but that was beside the point. He  _ looked _ normal and that was one of the only things he was clinging onto to stay sane. It was safe to say the worst was left behind them.

However all of that began to quickly slide beneath his feet, leaving the poor boy clawing desperately at a cliff’s point to stay up. Once the first sign of a pointed ear started, everything else came with it.

★★★★★

_ September. _

Dipper woke up after a dreamless, void-filled nap fuelled by boredom to dull, grey-ish yellow sunlight flooding through the windows of the attic. He rubbed his eyes and clipped through the wooden floor into the kitchen beneath. 

“Mornin’.” Dipper raised a hand in half a wave. Mabel turned around to say something in kind when she froze, color draining from her face and eyes growing wide.

“Huh? What’s up, Mabes?” Dipper floated over to the table and ‘perched’ himself on a chair. Really, he was floating about two inches off of the wood since he wasn’t dealing with the emotional distress of not being able to touch anything like a real human. It was too early.

“Your..” Mabel swallowed and shook her head, looking away. “Nothing.” She crammed a spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into her mouth, milk dripping down her chin. She wiped it away.

“It’s obviously something.” Dipper leaned forward on his forearms, unaware of how unnerving and piercing his gaze was. It took several minutes of nagging for him to get her to spill. What was she worrying over so much? She looked like she was seeing a ghost.

_ Well, she was. _

“Bro-bro,” Mabel whispered, lest the Grunkles hear. “Your eyes.”

“What about them?” Dipper’s brows furrowed.

This was better seen than described. She got out of her seat and pulled Dipper along to the bathroom. There she grabbed the hand-mirror and flipped it to face him.

He frowned. “I... you know I can’t see myself anymore, Mabes.”

Dipper didn’t have a reflection anymore since Weirdmageddon. Being turned into a demon-human hybrid and trapped in the Mindscape did that to a person.

“Then do that weird scrunchy-face blip thingy!” 

He would have made a comment, but the distress evident on Mabel’s face made him bite his tongue. He sighed and reached out to grip part of the handle. Dipper’s fingers phased through it as all things did nowadays and he fought hard to hold back the sinking feeling in his stomach.

_ Right. _

Dipper took a deep breath and focused all his energy on it, imagining the feel of the cool, smooth plastic beneath his fingertips. He remembered how it had felt before, how the silver of the mirror was even colder. He focused on bringing it closer to him, less of him reaching out but of it reaching in.

Dipper soon realized that he wasn’t only imagining it… but feeling the real thing. His jaw dropped and he laughed in joy, in relief, in surprise and  _ oh my god, I finally did it. _

But all celebration came to an end when, beaming, he took a proper glance in the mirror. Dipper’s face dropped in horror.

The whites of his eyes had turned black and his pupils were yellow. They were sickeningly familiar but just as foreign.

It was one thing to calm Mabel down from the shock, but it was another to bring Dipper down from the panic attack. It took months before he could look at himself and not see  _ him. _

★★★★★

_ November. _

Dipper didn’t realize how tender his gums were until he noticed how slow he was taking his daily candy-sprees, unlike his usual inhalation. He shrugged it off, thinking it would go away. It was just another weird ache and pain, right? Nothing new. He didn’t expect for it to actually get worse, though.

Mabel summoned him to the physical plane with a quick paper circle and taffy one afternoon. When Dipper appeared, his features were crunched up in pain, jaw working itself.

Mabel’s eyes widened in alarm. “Whoah there bro-bro! What happened?”

“I d’nno...” Dipper needed to sink his teeth into something, instinct telling him it’d relieve the pain, but he couldn’t imagine toying with his sensitive gums. Were his teeth getting loose too? No, that wasn’t possible, he had already lost all of his baby teeth. “H’rts..”

“Your mouth?” Mabel frowned and leaned closer over the circle. “What’d you do? Open up!”

Dipper smacked her hands away, shooting up so she couldn’t reach him. “Uh uh, no touching! I d’n’t do anything, ’m fine...”

“You look like you’re constipated.” Mabel crossed her arms over her chest. “Come down and let me help you!” 

“No!” It was hard to remember that, despite Dipper taking on a demonic persona, he was still a 12-- well, 13 year old boy. He was just as stubborn as one.

“ _ Fine _ _._ What do you want for an offering then?” Mabel kicked the taffy out of the summoning circle. If Dipper refused to let her help with the pain, then he definitely wasn’t going to be able to eat the taffy. It’d be a waste in sacrifices and candy was pricey!

Dipper lowered himself back down once her hands weren’t in his face. “Ice pack. 3 hours max.”

The next three hours were spent with him pressing the ice pack to his cheek. It made his skin sting and turn numb, but at least it helped. Dipper switched it between sides, cheeks given an unusual rosy color.

These occurrences became more and more frequent, Dipper abandoning candy for the sweet, sweet relief of ice. Mabel put her foot down after the sixth deal and found teething rings at the store in a pack of four.

“I don’t get it,” Dipper muttered, gnawing away at a frozen teething ring. It was blue, plastic, and bumpy to press into all of his sore spots and numb them. “Shouldn’t being a demon get rid of-” 

There was a sudden sickening  _ snap _ _,_ a give to the pressure the ring had in one spot of his mouth. He stilled.

Mabel hadn’t realized the abrupt silence. “Well, maybe it’s because you’re half human!” She looped some yarn around her knitting needle and looked up. She paled. “Oh shit.”

One of Dipper’s lower canines was  _ hanging _ out of his mouth, holding on only by suction of an edge. Golden blood oozed onto Dipper’s tongue and he was horrified and downright scared.

He looked like a little kid again, not knowing what was happening but panic filling his chest. In this fight or flight situation, he froze. “I-- ‘abel?” he whimpered, unable to move in his place.

He had already lost his baby teeth, he had gone through that, he  _ shouldn’t _ be doing it again and that’s what terrified him. Did he break it on his own? Did he just snap a fucking tooth out of his mouth-- or was it already loose? What was growing  _ in ? _

Mabel dropped her knitting stuff down, the needles and yarn flopping into the basket, and went to go get a paper towel. Dipper held the bloody tooth in one hand and the gold covered teething ring in the other, looking a little woozy.

Mabel was panicking just as much as Dipper was, but he needed calm. He didn’t need to see her freaking out because it’d make it worse (even though he could see the reddened cobalt in her aura, giving everything away). She ripped the paper towel in half and had him bite down on one piece while using the other to wrap up the tooth and ring.

“Hey, it’s alright!” Mabel chirped, forcing optimism into her words. “It’s not the end of the world, you’re okay.” She felt his form shrink in her arms, body tucked against her side.

Dipper’s breathing shook, voice muffled from the paper towel. “What-What the hell jus’--? Mabel, what’s  _ happening _ _?_ ” It felt like everything was coming at him all at once-- the pointed ears, then the eyes, the colors of his tears, and now his fucking  _ teeth. _

“I-I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Mabel didn’t have the answers he needed. It ripped at her insides. The most she could do was have him breathe in and out slowly to calm down. 

A few minutes passed and he reluctantly pulled away. Once the pocket that the tooth left clotted, quicker than usual considering his accelerated healing, he pulled the bloodied, spitty paper towel out. He swiftly threw it away.

Mabel had him open up, thumb keeping his bottom lip pulled down, to see if there was anything to explain what had happened. There, in the pocket, she saw a sliver of another tooth begin to poke up out of his gums.

It was way too sharp to be human. Behind it, there was another tooth too. Why wasn’t it positioned like usual? It was nestled right behind the lost one, a thicker gum line securing it.

“Listen, Dip, uh...” Mabel stammered. How was she supposed to tell her brother he was  _ actually _ teething again? Rip off the bandaid style. “You have… New teeth.”

Dipper nearly chomped on her fingers when his jaw snapped shut. “What?!”

“Um, yeah--”

“What do you mean  _ new teeth _ _?!_ ” Dipper blipped away to find the hand mirror. Mabel waited several moments and heard something akin to a gurgled scream coming from the bathroom. She winced.

Over the course of several weeks, Dipper’s teeth came snapping-- or wiggling, once he became sick of the trauma-- out one by one. He was  _ miserable _ _,_ gums sensitive, ice packs every day instead of candy for deals. He never thought he’d be so familiar with the taste of his own blood before, but there he was. (It didn’t taste metallic like humans’ did... It was a thick golden ichor, not quite transparent but nearing it, and it tasted tangy, but sharp, like an electrical zap in flavor.)

The new teeth grew in way quicker than Dipper expected, leaving the poor boy spooked. They were  _ sharp _ too-- his tongue was always getting sliced open on them. He assumed they’d finish up the chain at his molars and things would be done, but ‘demonic puberty,’ as Mabel coined it, had another thing in mind.

An entirely new second row pushed through his gums painfully right behind his basic set. Mabel and Stan tried to play it off as something comedic and called him Shark Boy (and Mabel had to be Lava Girl), but everyone was on edge regardless of how much they joked.

Dipper felt that he was that one meme of the dog sitting with a cup of coffee in the middle of a burning room saying, “This is fine.” The changes happened slowly, day by day, but things were still going so fast. He could only sit back and watch himself become something he didn’t want to be, something he was  _ scared _ of being, and keep himself unreasonably calm because apathy and denial was a hell of a lot better than accepting he was slowly becoming a monster.

★★★★★

_ March. _

Wings.

Dipper was floating at the gift shop counter one early March afternoon, chatting to Wendy after a whole bag of Jollyranchers was sacrificed for several hours’ worth. She laughed as he explained how he had a  _ whole flock _ of sheep in the Mindscape that he didn’t know what to do with. (Most of the time they just grazed and baa’ed at each other back and forth, but when he wasn’t there, what else did they do? Tax-fraud?)

Dipper’s lower back began to ache; two spots directly across from each other were the most tender. He frowned a little, hand coming behind him while he talked to rub the sore spots. When looking back at unexpected aches and pains, he knew that he shouldn’t be brushing it off, but it didn’t hurt much and he was having a fun, uninterrupted time, okay?

So he ignored it, and if Wendy noticed, she didn’t say anything. He ignored it when it grew into a stronger pain. He ignored it when he had to sit down to stay upright.

“You good, man?” Wendy asked, popping a cherry sucker out of her mouth. Her lips and tongue were stained red-- Dipper knew it was her favorite flavor and he focused on all the details so he could  _ not _ notice the burning.

“Yeah--Yeah, I’m fine. Why? Why wouldn’t I be?” Dipper stammered.

“You ain’t lookin’ so hot.” Wendy frowned, moving forward towards Dipper. “What’s wron--”

A blood-curdling scream cut her off. 

Something  _ inside _ of him fucking  _ moved _ and the boy crumpled forward completely on the counter. Something was pushing out; Dipper could feel the skin of his lower back stretching and tearing, so much pressure, and it hurt  _ so bad \-- _

There was the sickening sound of flesh ripping apart, and two appendages forced their way out from his body. They tore his clothes with the pressure they exerted, popping out and lengthening. 

Leathery wings covered in thick, golden blood and sinew.

Wendy’s eyes went as wide as saucers, all color draining from her face. Her stomach flipped, panic and nausea rising up in an awful combination. 

Dipper couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, all he knew was white hot, blinding pain. He didn’t know what just  _ burst _ out of him, but he screamed in agony and panic until his body couldn’t handle it anymore.

He tumbled limp and unconscious onto the floor.

When he woke up, his whole body was sore, back even moreso. Dipper peeled his eyes open and groaned to see that he was placed on the couch before his time in the physical plane was up.

Mabel was on the floor, her back pressed against the foot of the couch. Her sweater was bunched up around her shoulders, the girl halfway in sweater town and biting at her nails.

Stan stepped into the room, his own features scrunched in worry and... guilt? “Pumpkin, I’m sure your brother’s fine.”

“But Stan!” she cried, such sorrow dripping through her words that Dipper winced. “He--He’s--” There were so many thoughts jumbling and smashing into one that nothing came out. It was so  _ frustrating _ not being able to say what you  _ needed _ to. All the colors in her aura swirled in a nauseating pattern of blues, reds, greens.

Stan cut her off with a sigh, easing his crackling joints into the chair next to them. (Damn, he was getting old.) “Dipper’s going to be okay. He’s done tons of unexpected shenanigans like this, he’s made it through those.”

“But those were new  _ traits _ _,_ not entire  _ wings! _ ” Mabel exclaimed.

Wait, what?

Dipper’s head snapped down to where he felt the strange protrusions and saw two leathery, bat-like wings. They were folded against his back, clear of blood and matter-- even the tears in his flesh that had yielded the wings were healed up like nothing had ever happened.

Dipper should have been thankful for the magic and convenience of accelerated healing, but he was more spooked than anything close to it for multiple reasons.

When Mabel finally noticed Dipper was awake, she hugged him so tight his ribs creaked. He wearily wrapped his arms around her and leaned his weight against Mabel’s front, taking in the comfort.

After something like this, no one knew what to do next. But, they moved on together regardless. Always together.

Dipper, after days of experimenting, managed to control how and when his wings moved. Other times, they’d stretch and smack the person nearby in random bouts of muscle contractions. Once he had proper movement down, the next logical step was practicing what they were meant to do: flying.

Dipper floated above the couch, Mabel giving him a wide berth while he concentrated, as he slowly flexed the newfound muscles to move them. They twitched and eased their way into a flittering motion, but not nearly as fast-- it was a simple wave at most. But it was progress!

He took several minutes at this, laughing, “Mabel, I’m doing it!” He attempted to speed up, but quickly found that was an  _ awful _ idea by the intense seizing and clenching of the muscles and tendons connecting to his lower back.

“Ohhh shit,” Dipper groaned, collapsing against the couch. It was similar to a charlie horse or a bad foot cramp in the arch of your foot, except with two different appendages in an already sensitive area that he needed for keeping himself upright.

“Dippinsauce?” Mabel looked up from her stickering session and frowned, worry gleaming in her eyes. Especially since Dipper swore-- he  _ never _ swore, they weren’t allowed to! “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yeah-- ugh, I’m fine, yeah, just... They’re cramping.” Dipper did his best to twist around and reach the meeting of his back and tendon, but the position he was in didn’t allow for that type of flexibility.

“Lucky for you, I know how to deal with those!” Mabel chirped and popped up from the kitchen table. She skipped on over and sat down next to him. “Not wing ones, but y’know, you make do.”

She put two hands against the base of one wing, ignoring Dipper’s strangely serpentine hiss, and pressed her thumbs in. She rubbed in circles and was almost shocked by how taut and firm the muscles were. Usually this type of tension would be caused after weeks and months of work, not a half-hour fluttering session. No wonder Dipper looked so pained.

Dipper grunted occasionally as Mabel worked out particularly tough knots, his breathing becoming less labored as his wing eased up. It twitched and lowered down into a limp position the more Mabel massaged.

She moved to the next wing and repeated the routine, humming a soft little song as she worked. That wing eased down too, and when she glanced up, Dipper looked sleepy. His head laid on his forearms, clearly comfortable and relaxed.

“Better?”

Dipper peeled his eyes open and nodded. “Mmm...hmm...”

“Good.” Mabel smiled and left him alone to rest.

From that day on, Dipper took it easy with his progress. He didn’t push himself as hard as he had that day until he was ready to advance, although sometimes he became too overzealous and Mabel would have to help Dipper ease the wing spasms. Half of the time Stan stepped into the room, Mabel was massaging thin air. He’d just laugh and tell Dipper he deserved it and moved on. 

Soon, Dipper had full control and mobility over what Mabel called his ‘buttwings.’ He repeatedly told her it was humiliating terminology, but once she was set on something, you couldn’t knock it out of her.

★★★★★

_ May. _

Dipper was barely holding onto his humanity. 

He still kinda felt human, as in his feelings and processing, but everything else was changing… Even his thoughts were turning horrific. He told himself that he was okay and that things weren’t blowing out of proportion as much as it seemed.

It was when he stood in a dark basement, drenched in the blood of those who had summoned him, that he truly realized he had been lying to himself. His taste buds were dancing in delight and torn flesh was jammed underneath his fingernails. Who he was before was long gone now. How hadn’t he seen it?

Dipper holed himself up in his Mindscape straight after, unable to face the rest of his family. Deep shame squeezed his heart, stomach roiling in disgust. 

It turned in appallment of the wide grin he’d worn while tearing out a woman’s throat, the souls nestled comfortably in his gut, the pride he'd taken, the blood he’d enjoyed,  _ of what he became. _

He didn’t know who he was anymore. Mabel would tell him he was Mason ‘Dipper’ Pines, her twin brother, best friend, and nerd extraordinaire. She’d fill him up on things he already knew, like his favorite book series, where they went to school, their best friends, what his fish had been named, and his lack of hygiene.

But she couldn’t tell him the things  _ she _ didn’t know, and that was where his problems lied.

He had enjoyed the innocent screams and thrill of power far too much to be mortal, and he had felt much too guilty and revolted to be demon. He was neither. He belonged nowhere.

All that he knew in the end was that he didn’t recognize the  _ thing _ he saw in the mirror.

**Author's Note:**

> My darker take on Dipper's little transformation period. We still love torturing out characters, huh?
> 
> I have yet to figure out what to do about the stupid italic spacing. I've given up.
> 
> Thank you so much to my lovely beta reader, ToothPasteCanyon. She does the good writes and reads.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think in the comments.


End file.
